


Ace of Spades

by Arazsya



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Tjelvar Stornsnasson, Coming Out, Discussions of Asexuality, Established Relationship, M/M, Sex-indifferent character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29666544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arazsya/pseuds/Arazsya
Summary: Making the decision still doesn’t make it any easier to have the conversation. Tjelvar has been pacing around the perimeter of their camp for at least ten minutes now, trying to run through all the possible permutations of the discussion in his head, and all he’s managed to do is slightly strain his ankle in a half-dug rabbit burrow.
Relationships: Edward Keystone/Tjelvar Stornsnasson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: AroAceing the Line





	Ace of Spades

**Author's Note:**

> Written for AroAceing the Line 2021 - Day 2, Coming Out

There is never going to be a good time for this. Tjelvar’s been waiting for one for a while now; all he’s ever met are more and less worse options, and he’s painfully, increasingly stricken with the understanding that this is probably going to be the best he’s ever going to get. The hillside where they’ve set up camp is secluded enough that they’re not going to be interrupted, the settlement remains they’d found on their expedition had been promising so their mood isn’t too low, and they’re only a day or so from town, so if Edward’s going to break his heart, they won’t be alone together suffering in it for long. 

He doesn’t _want_ to keep waiting, either. The fact that he hasn’t said yet has undermined every kiss, every touch, every soft word, like a river at a sandbank, and there’s only so long he can stand it before he too collapses into the current. It doesn’t feel _fair_ , and for all that he tells himself that it’s not unusual or wrong for people to want different things out of a relationship, believing it all the way down his doubtful spine is another matter.

Making the decision still doesn’t make it any easier to have the conversation. Tjelvar has been pacing around the perimeter of their camp for at least ten minutes now, trying to run through all the possible permutations of the discussion in his head, and all he’s managed to do is slightly strain his ankle in a half-dug rabbit burrow.

Edward is sitting on the second most comfortable rock available, lighthouse-steady, polishing his morningstar – Tjelvar is half-sure that it’s busy work, the kind of thing that he does to keep his hands occupied when they don’t have anything else, but he also wouldn’t put it past the Church of Apollo to declare that a good paladin should be shiny enough to be visible to their god at all times.

For the sixth time that morning, Tjelvar takes a step towards him, intending to just get it out with. As with the other five attempts, every word he’s ever learnt drops out of his head, replaced by a shrill mosquito-whine of panic, and his mind folds like a house of cards. He’s about to settle back into his circuits, when Edward glances up, briefly, sees him standing there on the brink, and there’s no brushing it off anymore.

“Edward,” Tjelvar begins, and already his voice sounds wrong – too loud, or too pronounced, too _something_ , but he doesn’t know what or how he might go about changing it. “I, er – I wanted to talk to you about something. Given that we seem to be doing… This.” And there’s a _fine_ way to refer to what’s so far been one of the best, least fraught relationships he’s ever had, he thinks, savagely. “It’s something we should really discuss.” 

“All right.” Edward looks back down at his task, and Tjelvar swallows an ache in his throat.

“Edward.” Too soft, now, the sentence crumpling in on itself before he can finish it.

“Right.” Edward wraps his cloth carefully around his morningstar, and places it gently on the ground at his feet, settling his hands into his lap and then gazing up at Tjelvar, fully engaged.

This, Tjelvar thinks, may actually be worse than not having any of his attention at all.

A thin, filmy drizzle starts to fall, cold at the back of his neck, and he can’t even bring himself to shiver.

“So… we’ve been… involved,” he tries, because he can’t just stand there and hope that the rain might eventually get heavy enough to wash him away for good. “For… some time. And I don’t know how – uh, serious, it seems to you, but – er. What I am trying to say is… I just. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to sleep with you.” And that’s it. He can be relieved now, can feel the weight fall from his shoulders. It’s out, and he doesn’t need to–

“We sleep together every night,” Edward reminds him, mildly.

“No, I – I know we do.” Tjelvar takes a second, breathes through the absurd impulse to laugh. “I mean, as in…”

“Oh.” Edward blinks, and though Tjelvar scours his face for judgement as he would a potsherd for a pattern, he can’t make out anything sweeping in to follow the dawning comprehension. “ _Oh_. Like that.” 

“Yes.” Tjelvar folds his arms across his chest, realises they don’t feel right there, and lets them flop, but his hands seem abruptly too heavy for that. “I’ve never really felt that much… drive? To– do that. At all. With anyone. Specifically.” He tries gesturing instead, but he’s too conscious of what he’s doing now and it won’t ever be _right_. “It’s not im _possible_ that I’ll – I don’t _hate_ the idea of doing… that… with… you? It’s just… not my area of expertise? At all? I will let you know if I – uh – ever do feel like trying it. But if you’re coming into… This, thinking that we’re eventually going to get to that stage… I don’t want you to be disappointed. That’s not something that’s inevitable, with me. And if that’s not something you’re all right with, I think we had probably better stop… This. Before it goes any further.” Not that it’s not already gone too far, found that comfortable distance that Tjelvar would be content enough to hike into forever.

There’s a silence. Tjelvar is in no position to judge its length.

“I don’t understand.”

That shouldn’t be unexpected. It’s not as if Tjelvar isn’t cursing himself, wondering why it’s so abruptly impossible for him to explain something he’s lived with his whole life, how he ever manages to tell Edward anything important if _that_ is how he sounds, if it’s really too late for him to just say not to worry about it and go back to agonising to himself in the midnight hours.

“It really is quite simple, Eddie.” Tjelvar tries to soften the words midway through, but the flash of irritation is far too hot, catching on his own fear. “I don’t feel any–”

“No, I get _that_.” Edward interjects, raising a quelling hand. “I just. You know I don’t have any money or titles or nothing, so…” He trails off, mulling it all over, and then his eyes brighten, a smile creeping into his expression, at the edges, like it hardly dares to be there. “You love me!” 

“I thought we’d established that.” Later on, Tjelvar supposes, they’re going to need to have another one of those talks about what Edward’s past relationships had been like, and how they’ll be doing everything they can to make sure this isn’t one of them. It wouldn’t be the first on the theme that Tjelvar loves him for him, not the legacy and fortune he’d turned his back on. But this isn’t the time.

Edward gives a brief shake of his head, as if he’s trying to clear his rain-spotted hair from his face, or perhaps whatever thicket of self-doubt seethes inside his head, and then he looks back to Tjelvar, expression carefully serious.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says. It’s enough that Tjelvar feels himself sag, shoulders slumping as his breath finally gathers the courage to leave his chest again.

“So… do you want to… not…?” he asks, before he can make himself all angles again over it. All that worrying, and he can’t even get himself to properly acknowledge the idea of it, put into words that Edward’s priorities might be different enough that they won’t work anymore.

“No, I don’t want to not,” Edward says, and then frowns, puzzles through something to himself. “Unless it’s a not you don’t want to. We can not together. But except that, I would really like to… together.” For the barest of instants, Edward looks so utterly despairing that Tjelvar can’t process what he’s just said, and then he springs to his feet, throws his arms around Tjelvar, and buries any further crimes to be committed against language as a concept in a hug so tight that Tjelvar can hardly breathe.

“I… _am_ still happy to do the kissing,” he gasps, half-sure that the only reason he’s still standing is because Edward is.

“In a minute.” Edward presses his face against Tjelvar’s shoulder, and he can hear the smile in his voice, soothing away those last few fretting tangles of thought. “I love you as well. So you know.”

“I did know that,” Tjelvar manages, struggling to adjust the angle of Edward’s grip without breaking it. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Should I let go?” Edward’s arms relax, just enough that Tjelvar’s ribcage stops complaining.

“No.” Tjelvar works his own arms free, and snakes them around Edward, settling them both into the embrace a little more comfortably. “I’m glad you still, er…”

“It’s fine,” Edward says. “You’ve always got me.”

Tjelvar closes his eyes, briefly. Brings one hand up to rest at the back of Edward’s neck, keeping him in place. Wonders how long they’ll have to stay like this, if he wants to hide that he’s crying. 


End file.
